


Forgetting That People Are Kind

by DarthAbby



Series: Our Memories are Coming Back in the Form of Someone Else [3]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Identity Reveal, Past Peter B. Parker/Mary Jane Watson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-01 06:45:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18795079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthAbby/pseuds/DarthAbby
Summary: Peter B. Parker feels like he lost everything - Aunt May, MJ, his home. All that's left is his costume and a responsibility that he doesn't want anymore.A couple of Hawkeyes in Bed-Stuy aren't going to let him get lost that easily, though, weird spider-stealing portals be damned.





	Forgetting That People Are Kind

**Author's Note:**

> The alt PoV for 'Grab the Stars,' as promised! Probably not what you were expecting - this is set entirely in the 616 universe, where Peter B. is from, and is based on [this post of mine.](https://butim-justharry.tumblr.com/post/182832484388/fractionclint-barton-and-peter-b-parker-would-be)
> 
> Honestly this story has the potential of starting another spin-off series about Clint and Peter B. being depression buddies (since I know I didn't really get into it that much here). So if you're interested in more of this friendship, let me know!

Spider-Man was a hard person to pin down, literally and figuratively. No one knew his identity – it wasn’t even in SHIELD’s files. If anyone out there other than the wall-crawler himself knew his secret identity, they were keeping their mouths firmly shut.

So when Clint found Spidey on the roof of his building, looking absolutely exhausted even though there had been no major fights nearby in at least two weeks (when he had last run into the damn tracksuit draculas), he wasn’t exactly sure what to expect.

“Webs? What are you doing here?”

Spidey half-turned, just enough to give Clint a cursory look. “Oh. Hey, Hawkeye. Just… passing through. You?”

“I live here.”

“Really?”

Clint didn’t bother answering, instead moving to stand next to him near the ledge. “You want a beer?”

“ _God_ , yes.”

He opened up two bottles from the cooler he had brought up and handed one over, thinking absently that he remembered when Spider-Man would refuse all offers of alcohol and pretend that his voice was deeper than it actually was. Back when anyone with a brain knew that Spider-Man was barely out of childhood, even though he tried so hard to hide it.

Spidey drained half the bottle in one go and nodded at the cooler. “You always bring enough for a party when you come up here to drink?”

“Cookout night.”

“Huh?”

“Cookout night,” Clint repeated, gesturing towards the little grill back near the door. “Whole building comes up here to eat and hang out.”

“Oh – I should –”

“You can stay,” he said. “They don’t care.”

“They don’t?”

“Nah,” he assured the other hero. “They know I’m Hawkeye and don’t give two shits about it.”

“Huh. Must be nice.”

“It is,” Clint said, giving him a sideways glance. “You can stay with or without the suit, you know.”

Spidey’s shoulders tensed “I’d… rather stay in costume.”

“Whatever floats your boat, man.”

They stayed quiet, drinking their beers and looking out over the city. After a few minutes, Grills arrived with a bag of charcoal and some matches.

“Hey, Hawkguy,” he said casually. “Spider-Man. Burgers or dogs?”

And that was that. Just as Clint had promised, none of the adults seemed very interested in Spider-Man’s presence. Simone’s kids were very enthusiastic, but Spidey seemed pretty happy to answer their questions about his powers and bugs in general.

Later, as people slowly started to pack up and head back to their apartments, Spidey came over to stand next to Clint once more.

“You’ve got a good thing here, Hawkeye,” he said quietly, watching as Aimee laughed at something Grills had said as they moved the now-cool grill out of the way until the next cookout.

“Clint.”

“What?”

“Call me Clint,” he said. “You’ve met all my current neighbors, you can use my first name.”

“Okay… Clint,” he said, trying it out. “What do you mean by current neighbors?”

He shrugged, gesturing vaguely downwards. “Still got an empty apartment, right across from mine. No one seems interested in living across the hall from a half-assed Avenger with shouty friends.”

Spidey went very still, and after a moment, spoke slowly. “And… how much would rent be, if someone was interested?”

“Depends,” Clint said, raising an eyebrow. “I could probably lower it if the tenant also saved the city every other week.”

“Wait – you’re the landlord?”

“Yeah, uh, long story. So, you lookin’ for a place to crash, Webs, or just askin’ for a friend?”

“I…” he hesitated, then sighed. “When can I move in?”

“Soon as you can get your stuff here,” Clint said, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, I s’ppose I should probably have you sign something. And I _will_ need a real name if you’re gonna live here.”

“Peter,” he said, allowing Clint to lead the way into the building and down to his apartment. “Peter B. Parker.”

“I’ve heard that name before. Where have I heard that name before?”

“I sort of used to sell pictures of Spider-Man to the Daily Bugle?”

Clint laughed, louder and harder than he had in ages. “Oh man, you’re gonna fit in just fine around here, Peter, don’t even worry about it.”

* * *

“So, who did you sucker into moving in across from you?” Kate asked, waltzing into the apartment. “There’re boxes spilling out into the hall.”

“Hello to you, too,” Clint rolled his eyes.

“Hi, Hawkeye,” she said breezily. “Hi, random guy.”

Peter waved bemusedly from the couch. “Hi.”

“You didn’t answer my – oh, wait, is it _you_?” Kate asked, turning abruptly on Peter. “Did he trick you into taking the apartment?”

“I’m moving in of my own volition,” he defended half-heartedly.

“Sure,” Kate scoffed, then squinted at him. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Uh,” Peter said, eyes widening as he scrambled for an answer. He looked at Clint, who just shrugged.

“Up to you, pal. This is Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye.”

“The _better_ Hawkeye,” she corrected absently. “Are you gonna tell me your name or not, _pal_?”

“Peter B. Parker,” he finally said, getting off the couch and offering a hand.

“Never heard of you,” she said, shaking his hand. “But I _definitely_ know you from somewhere! Ugh, this is gonna drive me crazy. Clint!” She rounded on the other man. “You know something, don’t you?”

“No idea what you’re talking about, Katie-Kate,” Clint said, poorly hiding his smile behind his coffee mug.

“You guys suck. I’ll find out what it is. I always do.” Kate promised.

“Whatever,” Clint waved her off. “Why are you here, anyways?”

Kate crossed her arms and gave him a distinctly unimpressed look. “You’re my plus-one, remember?”

“I… yes?”

Kate sucked in a slow breath, composing herself. “My father’s party. You _said_ you would go with me. Because if I don’t have someone to remind me that it wouldn’t look good for me to strangle my father in front of the elite of New York, then I’ll probably _do it_.”

“I – what about that alien boytoy of yours?”

“Noh?” Kate grimaced. “He’s… not here.” Clint raised an eyebrow. “No, I do _not_ want to talk about it. Listen, I can’t go by myself and I can’t miss this stupid thing, either. Please, Clint?”

He thought about it for a moment before gesturing with the coffee mug. “Take Peter.”

“What?”

_“What?”_

Clint shrugged. “Kate needs a date. Peter needs to get out and talk to more people that aren’t me. I get to stay home and finally get caught up on _Dog Cops._  Win-win-win.”

Peter blinked. “Uh, what if I don’t want to go?”

“I’ll give you the first month of rent for free.”

“Done,” Peter said immediately.

“Wait, what if _I_ don’t want the rando as my date?” Kate asked.

“You like pissing off your dad, right? Which is why you drag me along whenever possible, because your dad hates me.”

“Because you’re an Avenger and covered in bandages more often than not, and have no idea what the differences between the spoons are.”

“I doubt Peter knows what spoon to use, either.”

“Hey!”

“Do you?”

“Well… no.”

“See?” Clint said. “He’ll be perfect. Awkward, depressed, recently divorced, and obviously not raised in a penthouse. It’ll be just like I’m there, but with less bandages.”

“I feel like I should take offense to that, but it’s all true,” Peter frowned.

Kate considered the argument for a moment. “You got a suit and tie, Mr. Parker?”

“Uh… no.”

She sized him up critically. “You’re taller than Clint, but not quite as broad. A badly-fitting suit will piss off my dad more than anything. I _hate_ how right you are about that, by the way,” she tossed at Clint. “Go get your suit. The _formal_ one, not the Hawkeye one.”

Clint rolled his eyes as he moved towards the stairs. “As if I would let just anyone wear my gear.”

“I’ve seen your old gear, ‘just anyone’ should have stolen it for a paint job!” Kate called after him. He flipped her off and she snorted.

“So, uh,” Peter began. “Why do you want to piss off your dad so much?”

“Because he’s an _ass_ ,” she said fiercely. “It’s my life mission to piss him off as much as possible.

Peter nodded. “I’m game for that. My only talking points are biochemical engineering and my failed marriage.”

“Oh, good,” she grinned. “Uh, not about the divorce. That sucks. But, my dad, he  _hates_ technical shit. He’ll talk stocks all day, but he doesn’t understand science above an eighth grade level, and stuff he doesn’t understand just makes him mad. Just throw around science words all night - hell, make up some new ones for all I care - and it’ll be _perfect_.”

* * *

Kate and Clint were… Peter wasn’t sure if he was comfortable saying _friends_ , because people who were friends with him tended to die alarmingly quickly. But they were _there_ , at least. People to talk to. Kate didn’t even blink the time she came over and found Clint carefully taping up Peter’s broken nose ( _fucking_ drones, man).

They were weird, and they could look after themselves, and they didn’t ask questions, and it was everything he needed right then.

It probably said a lot about Peter’s state of mind when he crawled through Clint’s window and collapsed onto the couch in full uniform without taking a good look around, pulling his mask off as he went.

“Uuuugh,” he groaned. “I think I need stitches. Might’ve also broken a rib or three. You got any vodka?”

 _"This_ is what you’ve been hiding from me?”

Peter opened an eye to see Kate leaning over the back of the couch, one eyebrow raised. “Uh…”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the sob story, I’ve got enough to fill a novel from my own team.” She disappeared, and Clint took her place, surveying Peter’s injuries.

“What happened?”

“Doc Ock,” he grunted, not willing to go into details at the moment.

Clint nodded and handed him a glass of water. “You can have vodka after you drink that without throwing it up.”

Peter grumbled but obliged, draining the glass in time for Kate to reappear with a large first aid kit. “Alright, Spidey, where’s the blood coming from?”

He closed his eyes as Clint got to work stitching him up, and promptly fell asleep.

* * *

_“Clint?”_

“Yeah, what?”

_“Why is there a glowing blue and pink portal sticking out of your building?”_

“There’s a _what?”_ Clint jumped up off the couch and ran to the window, looking down. “I don’t see anything, Kate, what are you talking about?”

_“I think it’s coming out of Peter’s apartment.”_

He cursed, dropping his cell phone and running to the door instead. He flung it open just in time to here an odd bubbling noise and see some flashes of light before the portal vanished and there was a loud crash from Peter’s apartment. “Pete!”

Clint darted across the hall and kicked the door in. A single piece of pizza fell from the ceiling to land amidst the utter chaos of the room - everything was tossed about and scattered like a mini tornado had gone through. But there was no Peter Parker _or_ Spider-Man in sight.

Footsteps from the stairwell. Kate skidded into the hall, panting heavily. “What _happened?”_

“Fuck if I know,” Clint answered, carefully entering the apartment, trying to avoid stepping on the shards of broken ceramic that had spilled out of a box labeled ‘dishes ? probably’ as he looked around. “Peter? You in here?”

“Peter!” Kate called, following him. “Webhead, where are you?”

No response. Clint and Kate shared a worried look.

This wasn’t good at all.

* * *

They called in Tony, and Billy, at Kate’s request. Neither magic or technology can give them any answers beyond what they already know - Peter is _gone_ , through some sort of interdimensional portal, and there’s no telling when he’ll be back.

Kate called up America, but she didn’t have any answers, either.

“Sorry, Princess,” she said with a shake of her head. “I’m not a bloodhound - I can’t track him down. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”

Three days later, the portal reappeared.

“CLINT!”

Clint rolled off the couch, jerking awake at Kate’s shout. “Fucking - what the _fuck,_ Katie?”

“It’s back,” she reported grimly, grabbing the bow and quiver next to the door before running back out into the hall.

Clint cursed and scrambled after her. Peter’s apartment was once again engulfed by the bubbling portal and clear sounds of fighting could be heard through it.

Kate drew back and fired an arrow directly into the center of the portal.

“What the _fuck_ , Bishop, that was one of mine!” Clint shouted, grabbing the bow from her.

“Well, _you_ weren’t doing shit!”

The portal bubbled more, crashing sounds echoing from it, and both Hawkeyes stilled, eyeing it warily.

“We should call… someone,” Clint said lamely.

Kate nodded. “America? Maybe Tony - fuck, you got Richards’ number, right?”

“I am _not_ calling up Stretch Armstrong -”

There was a rushing noise, a distant yell, and Peter suddenly dropped through the portal, landing squarely on his mattress with a groan.

“Peter!”

“Webs!”

He sat up, pulling off the mask and giving the two archers crowding him a confused look. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hey?” Kate repeated incredulously. _“Hey?!_ You’ve been missing for _three days,_ ever since I saw some sort of freaky interdimensional portal appear in here, and all you have to say for yourself is _hey?!”_

Clint put a hand on her shoulder and rolled his eyes. “What she _means_ to say is welcome back, man. You okay?”

“You know…” he said, squinting upwards as the portal collapsed in on itself. “I think I actually am.”

**Author's Note:**

> The sequel story is still very much a WIP, but I'm really enjoying writing it, so I think it will be up soon-ish! Thank for reading! And remember to tell me if you want more of these sad boys!


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